


Meet the Parents

by sansasnarks



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-25 12:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansasnarks/pseuds/sansasnarks
Summary: Kala, Rajan, and Wolfgang all decide to tell their parents about the three of them. It goes about as well as they expect.





	1. Kala

**Author's Note:**

> While you don't need to read it, I wrote Kala's chapter as a continuation of my other story (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893148) but again, it's not necessary to understand this story.

“You don’t have to do this, Kala,” Rajan said, and Kala sighed. She loved her husband, but this was perhaps the fifth time he had told her this in the past hour.

And for the fifth time she reiterated: “ _Yes_ , I do.” Kala avoided Rajan’s concerned look, and groaned when she turned to her left and saw Wolfgang looking at her with similar concern.

“You can change your mind, no judgement,” Wolfgang said. “I can turn the car around right now and we can go back to the hotel.”

Kala wanted to _scream_.

When they had started this relationship, _she_ had been the worried one. She couldn’t stop thinking about what her family would think, if they would think she were mad, if they would be _disappointed_. And yes, it would be a lie to say that she was _completely_ confident, but she didn’t need her husband and her lover giving her those sympathetic, “you can back out and we’ll never bring it up or judge you for it” looks that they were throwing her way.

“I know you can turn the car around,” she says. “But we’re here, and I cannot stay in this car with you both like this.”

Furthering her point she stepped out the car, walking towards her home. Rajan followed suit with a, “ _wait, Kala_ ,” and Wolfgang turned off the car, quickly moving to Kala’s side as well.

“I know you two are nervous,” Kala continued, “but we all agreed - after Rajan’s trial, we _all_ would tell our families.”

“Yes, about _us_ ,” Wolfgang said. “You want to tell them _everything_.”

“They deserve to know,” Kala said decisively. “And Ganesha gave me a sign. I was at the temple, praying for a sign that I should tell my family, and as soon as I stepped out the temple my father called me, telling me how much he missed me and hoped I would return to India soon.” She caught Rajan and Wolfgang sharing a look and glared at the two.

“He _always_ calls Monday and Wednesday mornings, 9 AM on the dot. He said he just had a feeling to call me! I knew then that I had to tell him. _And_ -” she reached the door and turned to her loves, ready to scold them more, but softened at the anxiety on their faces. It occurred to her that maybe their constant “we can go back” comments had more to do with _their_ nerves than _hers_. It made sense - they hadn’t officially told anyone.

Felix and the rest of the cluster _knew_ , obviously, but they hadn’t made an announcement about it. It just...happened, because that was how they all worked and _of course_ they all approved. Admittedly, Felix may have had his own reservations, Kala thought, but she thinks that over time he’ll relax and that once they hit the one year mark Felix will realize that this is going to stay and Wolfgang won’t get hurt. And maybe Will doesn’t get it much, but he feels what Kala and Wolfgang feels so he’s not going to question it, he’s just _there_ for them no matter what. They all are, they always _will_ be.

And sure, it had been obvious that they were all together in Paris - their dancing, kisses, Kala holding _both_ mens’ hands had garnered some strange looks and random comments of both support and disgust, but they didn’t mind because they didn’t care about the random strangers at the end of the day, not really. They didn’t have to sit down the hundreds of people in the club and lay it all out on the table, willingly offering themselves up to be accepted or rejected and having that answer _mean something_.

Kala suddenly feels some of her fear returning and she opens her mouth, not even sure if she’s going to say something or let out a high pitched scream because _of course_ they could get her nervous _now_ but before she says a word the door is open and there’s arms enveloping her.

“ _Beta_ , I thought I heard someone at the door! Sanyam, Diya, come, look who is here!” her mother pulls back and Kala can’t help but pull her mother in for a hug again when her mother smiles.

“I missed you,” Kala says. She truly did - while Kala was probably closer to her father, Priya Dandekar was, in Kala’s opinion, the world’s greatest mother (something she and Lito argued _quite_ often about). She was sweet and kind, and always smelled of jasmine, mixed in with whatever she had been cooking at the moment - which today seemed to be a sambar, and Kala’s mouth watered, aching for her mother’s food.

Would her mother still offer her food after Kala told her that she was with two men romantically and that she shared an almost indescribable connection with seven people?

Perhaps she would not ask about dinner, then.

Sanyam and Diya Dandekar arrived at the door then, and Kala flung herself at them as well, squeezing them tightly to her.

“Kala, it is so good to see you,” Diya said when they broke the hug, her face shining with excitement. “I haven’t had _anyone_ to chat with since you and Rajan ran off to Paris!” She twisted her face into a pout, adding, “I can’t believe you just up and left, and without inviting your dear sister.”

Kala tried to look stern, but she couldn’t help but laugh at her sister’s expression. “Diya, it was _dangerous_. Next time I go to Paris on a lighthearted trip, I will take you.” _If you can even be in the same room as me_ , she adds on silently.

“Well come in, come in,” her mother says, ushering the three inside. “Rajan, my dear son, I cannot tell you how happy I was that the trial went well. We prayed every day at the temple for your health and success, for both of you.”

“Thank you, amma,” Rajan said graciously. “I’m sorry that we had so quickly, and with barely a goodbye. I know it wasn’t easy for you both.” He perked up slightly, remembering the box in his hands. “I know it doesn’t make up for how we left, but we all got you these sweets from Paris. Wolfgang found them and they are a delight.”

Kala’s family looked at Wolfgang, as if they had noticed him for the first time (and they probably _had_ just noticed him, Kala realized, and how her family noticed a blonde-haired white man in India _last_ , she doesn’t know, but it had almost been a relief, not having to bring it up quite yet).

“Ah,” Sanyam says. “Is he your bodyguard? It's good to have protection, even after the trial.”

“He’s cute, Kala!” Diya said, only to be shushed by an affronted Priya.

“Thank you,” Wolfgang said to Diya in perfect Hindi. “And-” he said, turning to Sanyam. “I suppose it wouldn’t be incorrect to say that I am their bodyguard.”

Kala could have laughed at her family’s faces - Rajan _did_ laugh, he couldn’t stop himself, and even Wolfgang allowed himself to be amused at the sight. Diya’s mouth had opened with no signs of being closed and Sanyam nodded and then did a double take, looking up and down at Wolfgang.

“Your Hindi is remarkable,” he complimented. “As if you are a native speaker. Where did you learn?”

_Wolfgang suddenly appeared in front of Kala. "Do I lie?"_

_"No,"_ _she said._ _"This is about being honest. It's okay; I'll tell them soon."_

“I...didn’t,” Wolfgang said.

“Oh,” Sanyam said, the confusion still apparent but a polite smile still on his face. “You were born here then?”

Wolfgang looked back at Kala, a rare expression of panic on his face ( _Of course_ , Kala thought,  _of course the man who could keep calm in gunfire was terrified of talking to two 64 year olds and a chatterbox of a sister_ _)._

_"I don't think I should be the one to explain this."_

"I know," Kala said. 

Wolfgang nodded and said, "No," with a shrug, adding on, "I guess I pick up languages quickly." 

“What was that, dear?” Priya asked, turning to Kala. “You said something just now, before he spoke.”

"Oh," Kala laughed out. "Sorry, I was just, talking -" 

“Wait,” Diya said, finally managing to get her mouth closed. “What did you mean by the bodyguard statement? The "I suppose"? Are you not their-”

“Well, it - it’s a bit difficult to explain,” Rajan starts, “We all came here because we wanted to tell you that, uh, well, we all agreed that Kala should be the one to say it to you all-”

“What do you mean by ‘we all’? You keep saying that, just say ‘we’ or ‘me and Kala’, can’t yo-”

“Diya, don’t be rude. Let him finish a sentence! But Rajan,  _beta_ , who is -”

Her family started talking at once, everyone cutting each other off and speaking over each other with their frenzied explanations and questions.

“ _STOP IT!_ ” Kala yelled, and everyone stopped for a second before a new round of questioning took place.

 

Kala took a step back, and Rajan was at her side, a hand around her waist, and Wolfgang is there and now Sanyam is asking if she needs some chai or to rest and her sister was still shooting off question after question because she was _way_ too perceptive for her own good and was that Sun in the corner, that wasn’t a good sign because that _definitely_ meant she was distressed and Kala loved everyone in the room but she needed them all to take 5 steps back because she was feeling closed in and it was like she couldn’t _-_

_“Breathe,” Sun said, stepping in front of her. “Just breathe. And do what you need to do.”_

Kala nodded and breathed, feeling the calmness spread throughout her. She opened her eyes, looking at her family, who had finally quieted down and were looking at her with matching expressions of concern in their eyes.

“This is Wolfgang,” Kala said. “Rajan and I are with him. Romantically,” she clarified. “And Wolfgang and I share a...I supposed you can say psychic connection to six other individuals around the globe.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then more.

And still more.

“Well, that was one way to hear it,” Rajan said with a nervous chuckle. “Let’s all sit down and explain. Amma, I heard you say you made chai - anyone want chai? No? I’ll get the chai anyway, let’s sit.”

 

* * *

 

One hour later, three demonstrations from her and Wolfgang speaking perfect Spanish, Swahili, and Korean, and a probably too-long martial arts practice fight later, and her family was finally starting to come around.

They had _many_ questions, which Kala supposed was a good sign. At least they hadn’t kicked her and Wolfgang and Rajan out of the house or started screaming.

“So, you have an ESP link with Wolfgang and six other people in the world?” Diya asked.

“I would not describe it as ESP but for a simple sake, yes.”

“But _not_ with Rajan.”

“Not with Rajan.”

“And…” Sanyam gestures at the three adults on the couch. “You three are in a…..a...polygamy?”

“Polyamory,” Kala clarified. “We’re polyamorous. Polygamy would include marriage and is often a man marrying two women, which sounds all right but when you look at the systematic -”

“Kala, my love,” Rajan said, putting his hand over hers. “Maybe we should save that part for a different day.”

“Right,” Kala nodded, and she looked back at her family. “How are you all?” she asked. “I know this is...a lot to hear at once. All of it.”

“It is,” Priya said. “I’m sorry, my dear, I just don’t know how to respond to all of this. How am I supposed to react? When your father told me you were coming and had something to tell us I thought you were...well, not...not this.”

“I know,” Kala said. “I’m sorry.” The regret filled her instantly, and tears pricked her eyes. She could have been less blunt about it, she had been so panicked and wanted _so badly_ to get it over with, to prove that she could do it and be decisive that she hadn’t prepared them well enough, hadn’t broken the news as best she could.

Her parents looked at each other, speaking their own silent language (one that not even Kala and Wolfgang could replicate, but one that came with years of knowing someone, years of knowing what every minute expression meant to them). It wasn’t long, but their eyes were locked until a sense of understanding passed between them, and they looked back at the three adults sitting uncomfortably on the couch. Kala looked down, preparing herself for their statement, for “we love you but you cannot be here any longer”  to come out of their mouths.

“Why are you apologizing, Kala?” Sanyam asked, and Kala looked up.

“Well...Wolfgang, Rajan, and I. This can’t _possibly_ be what you’ve imagined for my life. I must…” her eyes flitted down, but she forced herself to look back up to her parents. “I worried you. You must be disappointed in me." 

“Oh Kala,” Priya sighed. “Not only have we had to live with the fact that you were targeted with a bomb threat, but in the past hour you’ve informed us that you _also_ share an emotional and mental bond with seven individuals across the globe, been hunted by a secret organization, and -” her voice cracked here, “that you had been _shot_.”

Kala nodded, her head down and her guilt high. She truly _had_ been a disappointment - she had been so caught up in her own struggles that she hadn’t thought about how confused her parents had been, how _worried_ they must have been. And now she had brought her loves here, asked her family to accept _that_ alongside everything else that she had thrown on them, how could she have been so _selfish_? How could she have misread Ganesha’s signs so  _wrong?_ She heard her father speak, and she turned her head to him, unsure if she even wanted to hear what he was about to say.

“So believe us, Kala,” Sanyam said. “You being with two men who love you for the amazing woman that you are is at the _least_ of our worries.”

Priya nodded. “We always knew you were extraordinary, Kala. Just promise us that you will tell us everything from now on, no matter what the danger. We need to know." 

"I...I promise," Kala said, blinking back her tears, surprise filling her. “You don’t hate me?”

“How could we hate you, Kala?” Diya asked. “This is _amazing_ . This is _much_ better than a pregnancy announcement could have been.”

"Diya, please this is not the time for that!"

"Well, you thought it was." 

As Priya and Diya started bickering with each other, Wolfgang leaned in, whispering, “I love your family.”

It was then, sandwiched in between her husband and her partner and looking at her family, who were still rather confused and concerned but also _lovely_ and so much more supportive than she could ever imagine, that Kala cried.

“Yes,” she sniffled out, even as Rajan rubbed her back and Wolfgang held her hand and her family who had stopped bickering and moved to hug her as soon as she started crying.

“I love my family as well.”


	2. Rajan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: homophobia in this chapter.

“One more time,” Rajan says, turning to Wolfgang and Kala. “You will not, _no matter what my father says_ , cause any bodily harm to him.”

Wolfgang gives a frustrated sigh, as if Rajan had told him he couldn’t have the last slice of cake. “Yes, Rajan. I give you my word.”

Rajan knew Wolfgang wasn’t happy about it, and that he thought Manendra Rasal was an abusive parent. It was in his eyes, the clench of his jaw, the way that Wolfgang went stiff whenever Rajan spoke about his father’s parenting style.

Well, that, and the fact that Wolfgang told him that he “never had to say anything to an abusive asshole.”

Rajan’s first instinct had been to defend his father, to explain that it wasn’t abuse because parents disciplining their children was _different_ in India and the concept that it was abuse was a Western ideal. But then he looked at Kala and remembered that she has never had that, and that he could never, would never lay a hand on any child that he has with these two.

But still, if he was abused then his parents and most of the people he knew were abused too - besides, his father hadn’t done it often, just when he had been a brat. Most times his father clapped him on the back and told him he was doing great. _Also,_ he thought he was fairly well adjusted and if he was abused shouldn’t he be traumatized? Check and mate, Wolfgang.

Then again, he had to be _to_ _ld_ that watering down HIV drugs was a bad thing to do, so maybe he wasn’t as well adjusted as he thought.

He still doesn’t know if occasional beatings when you’re a child that stop when you’re older counts as abuse and the fact that he doesn’t know is probably something to talk about in of itself, but he decides that it doesn’t matter right now and that he still needs to do this, which is exactly why they’re here and ready to get in, break the news, and get out. _And it will all be okay,_ Rajan thinks.

As long as Wolfgang doesn’t beat up his dad for his inevitable awful reaction. But of course, Wolfgang isn’t the  _only_ one to worry about, and Rajan turns to Kala expectantly.

Kala gave an offended scoff. “What would _I_ do?”

“Kala, my love, don’t pretend that you aren’t capable of causing _some_ kind of harm to my father.”

She tries to look offended, but a hint of a pride shines in her eyes and she gives a huff. “ _Yes_ , Rajan, I promise.”

“Good,” Rajan says, turning towards his house, and then he swivels back. “Wait.” He points at the air behind Kala and Wolfgang, sweeping his arm to point at people he can’t see but  _knows_ are there. “You all must also promise. It still counts if it’s one of you.”

This time Wolfgang and Kala sigh in unison. “We promise,” they say together, and Rajan takes that as confirmation enough and turns back to the house.

“Maybe...maybe it will be all right,” Kala says, trying to get a hopeful lilt into her voice. “My family took it extraordinarily well. Perhaps he will surprise you.”

Rajan loves Kala’s optimism, and he wishes it were true, despite every fiber of his being reminding him that experience has taught him better than that.

 

Which leads him to this moment, where he’s sitting with Kala on one side and Wolfgang on the other, and he’s telling his parents the truth. His parents were all bright smiles when he came in, his father’s hands on his shoulder and congratulating him on holding his own in the trial, not saying he was proud of him _per se_ but it was in the subtext, and Rajan knows that, just as much as he knows that his father will be screaming within the next 15 minutes.

And sure enough, when Rajan says that he’s with Kala and Wolfgang, and his parents’ smiles slowly fade and his mother’s brows furrow and his father asks, slowly, cautiously, “Is this a joke?”

Rajan knows he could say yes, laugh it off and Wolfgang and Kala will laugh along with him, it will be gone and filed away never to be brought up again. That would be the smart thing to do. But love isn’t always smart and Rajan says: “I know this may not be your ideal thought for me, but I love these two, so much, and I cannot hide that from the world. And...as my parents I’m meant to respect you, and how can I do that if I hide away this large part of my life? You two deserve that truth.”

His parents are silent a moment longer, his mother wringing her hands and looking in between her son and husband nervously. For a moment, his father’s face clears, and Rajan allows himself a fantasy. That his father will call him extraordinary while his mother hugs him, that they boast that their son has found not just one but _two_ people to love, that his father will turn to Wolfgang and Kala and hesitantly tell them that he doesn’t quite get this fully but as long as they are happy that he is happy as well.

“Respect,” his father laughs. “You talk about _respect_ and you come into our house AND TELL US THIS -”

_Or perhaps pigs will sprout wings and fly._

Rajan leans back, feeling Wolfgang and Kala’s shoulders next to him. Wolfgang’s face is set and he’s ready to go at any moment, and Rajan is thankful that Wolfgang is still seated. Kala’s face is worried, and she’s trying to interject but Manendra Rasal is on a roll and Rajan knows that it will take a long while until he’s done, so he sits back and tunes out the ride.

“ _YOU DISAPPOINTMENT, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US, YOU FA-_ ”

His father had said - or rather, yelled - something along those lines when Rajan was 13 years old. He should have been doing homework, but instead he and his best friend Vikram were chatting and when Rajan mentioned he hadn’t had his first kiss or a girlfriend Vikram blurted out that they should kiss.

“Why?” Rajan had asked, and Vikram had just shrugged and looked down at the floor.

“For practice,” Vikram had said. “We’re going to kiss girls later on, right? We should know how.”

It was a flimsy excuse and they knew it, even at 13, but they took it, and every day after their study sessions, they would look to make sure no one was near and would sneak kisses.

“ _S_ _HAMEFUL. DISGUSTING. HOW COULD YOU ALLOW YOURSELF TO DO THESE DISGUSTING THINGS -”_

Vikram tasted like the heat and dust and the daal and rice that he’d bring in his tiffin box, but Rajan didn’t think he tasted much better and he didn’t think Vikram minded, because if either of them did they would have ended it by now but neither of them did.

They would murmur “ _for practice_ ” before leaning in to the kiss, repeating it to themselves like a mantra, because if they did it meant this meant nothing, even if every kiss lasted a little longer and even if kissing practices shouldn’t last for three months and even if holding hands under the table while studying couldn’t logically be called _practicing_ anything besides having sweaty hands.

The last time he had kissed Vikram, he moved his hand up to cup Vikram’s face. It was a nice change from them simply leaning in and not knowing what to do with his hands, and Rajan was thinking how they should do _this_ the next time they had their practices before large hands grabbed at him and he was looking into his father’s furious eyes. His father was silent - _much_ worse than him yelling, Rajan thought - and simply grabbed Rajan’s arm and dragged him out.

Rajan transferred to a private school a week later and when his classmates saw the bruises on his arm and asked what he could have done to deserve _that_ much of a beating, he’d shrug and joke that he'd robbed a bank and they’d all laugh and at home everyone moved around each other like they weren’t there, and somehow without ever speaking about it they all agreed to never mention it again.

“ _I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS. HOW COULD YOU-”_

Rajan had looked up Vikram once. Vikram was married to a North Indian woman and their constant vacation photos lined Facebook, them and their smiling faces and their little boy and girl.

Rajan wonders if Vikram is like him, pan or bi or whatever label Rajan eventually will decide on, or if he’s hiding himself and still whispering the words “ _f_ _or practice_ ” before he leans in to kiss his wife. Rajan hopes it’s the former, because the latter breaks his heart and he doesn’t know how to rectify that.

“ _THIS IS IT? THIS IS YOUR LIFE NOW?_ _HOW -_ ”

He could tell Wolfgang was getting angrier with each passing word, and Rajan was sure that it was taking Wolfgang every ounce of self control to not tell off his father right now. Rajan appreciated it. It was one of the many things he loved about Wolfgang.

He had been sitting with Wolfgang on the couch one day, watching a movie, when Wolfgang started going off about how inaccurate the fighting was, how they should _really_ be doing it, and Rajan could barely keep up but he couldn’t take his eyes off Wolfgang.

By the time Wolfgang started pulling Rajan up to show him _proper_ fighting techniques, Rajan had decided he was in love with Wolfgang.

 _“WHAT DID WE DO WRONG, WHAT? HUH? TELL ME, TELL ME WHAT WE DID TO DESERVE THIS -_ ”

He had to fight for his love with Kala, but he never had to explain it. He never had to hide it or act like it didn’t exist.

He would never do that to Wolfgang, never make him think that he was a shameful secret to be tossed into a wardrobe when there were people over. People would know that he loved Wolfgang just as much as they knew he loved Kala, and what they thought about it was their own problem.

“ _Manendra, please, he’s a good boy, just confused. Rajan - Rajan please, tell him, tell him it’s nothing, okay -_ ”

He wants to laugh. He’s a 31 year old man, next in line for the company, and he’s a _good boy_. He wonders if his mother thinks of him as that 13 year old boy again, the one who hung his head and promised her that it would never happen again, the one who whispered, “ _It really was just for practice,_ ” and hugged her when she held him and told him that it was okay, that she believed him and that they would forget about this soon enough.  

“ _Appa, please, I know this is difficult but Rajan is just trying to tell you_ -”

“ ** _You_ ** _don’t speak to me. I knew this marriage would not work from the start - maybe you are a coward instead, letting this woman manipulate you. She’s your wife and you’re letting her be a whore under your own roof-”_

He - wait, what?

Rajan is brought back to the present, and Wolfgang has gotten up, his fists clenched, and Kala’s hand has shot out to hold Wolfgang’s arm but her eyes have a steelness to them and her posture is stiff, her eyes scanning the room. Rajan thinks that Will or Sun must be visiting right now (maybe Sun; Will usually has this clench to his jaw whenever he’s feeling upset or protective) but it’s not the time to ask or even contemplate, because his father has crossed a line and Rajan cannot, _will not_ let it stand.

“ _Kala_ did not force or manipulate me,” he says, standing as well, trying to keep his rage at bay. “And I never want to hear you say _anything_ negative about her again, or about Wolfgang. I love _both_ of them. That may be hard for you to understand, but I want that known. I _chose_ this. I _wanted_ this.”

His father’s face is red and his mother is crying, and when Manendra takes a step towards Rajan, Wolfgang is immediately in front of Rajan, staring Manendra down.

“I wouldn’t,” he warns, and even in his father’s rage, Rajan sees that Wolfgang’s threat had _some_ impact because Manendra pauses in his steps. To Rajan, Wolfgang says, quietly, “ _just say the word_.”

Rajan could, he knows, and some part of him thinks he wouldn’t even care. But his mother is still crying and trying to hold his father back, and he can’t do that to her.

“Leave,” his father says.

“Manendra, don’t, Rajan - just, just tell him, tell him you don’t mean this,” his mother cries.

“Amma,” Rajan says, and he stops. He doesn’t like hurting her, doesn’t like that she’ll be left with his father screaming and raging about his disappointment son, doesn’t like that she’ll be working to mend this bridge for the next 20 years until Manendra is either too worn down to fight it anymore or dies still angry about it.

He doesn’t know if he’s being a bad son for leaving her with this, or if she’s a bad mother for letting his father cast him out for being himself. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it doesn’t matter which one of them thinks they’re right.

“I wish I could lessen your pain but - I’m not saying this to hurt you. This is me, this is my marriage, these are my loves. I did not tell you this for some need of your approval. These two people with me are the most important people in my life, and I will not, _cannot_ hide my love for them.”

Manendra’s face is red now, and Rajan wonders if he’s about to give his father a heart attack. _That_ would be certainly be a kicker to this night.

“ _Didn’t you hear me?”_ his father practically spits out. “ _Leave_. _Get out of my house! Right now!_ ”

“Come on, Rajan, let’s go,” Kala said, taking Rajan’s hand and taking him to the door. She pauses and turns, looking straight at Manendra. “Your son is a good man, who has surprised me with his love, kindness, and wholeheartedness in every possible way,” she says, and Rajan thinks that in that moment that his heart is about to burst with how much he loves Kala. “It’s a tragedy you do not see that goodness.”

She turns back towards the door, and Rajan follows her, feeling his father’s eyes on him. For a brief moment he feels like a teenager again and feels his first flash of fear, but Wolfgang’s hand bumps his as they walk out the door and the fear is gone.

“I’m so sorry, husband,” Kala says softly in the car, squeezing his arm. Wolfgang silently insisted on driving, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that Rajan could see his knuckles turning a slight pink.

“It’s all right, my love,” Rajan says, and he finds that, oddly enough, maybe it is.

He feels strangely disassociated from what happened, as if getting kicked out of his home didn’t actually happen to him. Perhaps it was because he knew there wouldn’t have been another outcome. Perhaps it’s because he has love and that cancels out the hate he was thrown. Perhaps it’s because even if he just lost one, potentially two parents right now, he still has a loving father and mother in the Dandekar household and that means more than he could ever express. Perhaps he’s had to deal with so many wild things this past year that his father screaming and his mother doing nothing ranks low on his list of significant events. Perhaps it’s because there’s a 3 hour ride back and he doesn’t want to spend that three hours feeling shame and regret and anger. Perhaps he thinks his father will rage for a while before finally calming and not - not being okay with it, but able to call him for a one minute conversation for the rest of their lives.

Or perhaps he’s in a state of shock and it will all come crashing down when they’re in the hotel or on the plane to Germany, but no matter what it is he’ll still have Kala and Wolfgang and that, _these two_ , are what’s important to him, and if his father can’t see past his own bigotry then that’s not Rajan’s problem.

“Yeah, well still,” Wolfgang’s voice adds, cutting through Rajan’s thoughts. “Sorry that your dad’s a real jerk.”

“Thank you, Nomi,” Rajan replies, and when Wolfgang, actual Wolfgang looks back at him, Rajan smiles and says, “ _You_  would have said dick, or ass, or something equally crass. Nomi’s the only one of you who still describes people as jerks.”

Wolfgang’s face softens, and a fond smile is shot at Rajan. “You’re doing better at telling us all apart. You may be on Amanita’s level soon.”

“I’d hope after a year of being with you that I’d be better at it,” Rajan laughs. “Knowing everyone, it comes with loving you both,” Rajan says, and Wolfgang’s locks eyes with Rajan before snapping back to the road.

A long, drawn out kiss shall have to wait for when they’re back in their room, but Rajan can still give Wolfgang a kiss on the cheek and so he leans forward, and Wolfgang turns his head slightly and gives a content sigh as Rajan’s lips make contact.

Rajan leans back and puts an arm around Kala and she snuggles in, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder and her arms on his chest.

“We love you too,” Kala says, and she looks up at him. “So much. You’re an amazing man, Rajan.” Rajan can tell she’s about to apologize again, as if she has any bearing over his father’s actions, and Rajan starts before Kala can start.

“Please don’t apologize for him, Kala, if you were going to. He isn’t the first one to not understand us. And he certainly will not be the last person to judge us,” Rajan said. “But I don’t care, as long as we three are happy and feel love and feel all right with this.”

“I am,” Wolfgang says from the front, softly, and Kala nods, voicing her own, “Me too.”

“So am I,” Rajan says, and he smiles. “So it’s settled, then.”

They settle into a comfortable silence then, and an hour later Kala is sleeping and Rajan is dangerously close to dozing off as well.

Rajan’s eyes flutter despite himself, and when he closes his eyes he remembers one of the many things his father yelled. _This is it? This is your life now?_

He hears Wolfgang humming a tune, except Wolfgang can’t seem to remember how the song goes and keeps starting from the beginning every 30 seconds. He feels Kala breathing deeply at his side, her hair a mess over her face, drooling onto his shirt in her sleep.

He supposes this _is_ his life now, and before Rajan finally allows himself to drift asleep, he thinks that he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	3. Wolfgang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I couldn't find anything on Irina Bogdanow besides the flashbacks, so I took creative liberties for this chapter! Sorry it took a little longer than expected; I had a hard time with Wolfgang but I finally found a tone that I liked so I hope you all enjoy! :)

Kala and Rajan are laughing when they get to the cemetery. Rajan has been all smiles since his mother called him this morning. He had sat with a blank face, going, “ _Yes amma_ ,” “ _Y_ _es. Yes. Yes. Good. I know,”_ and had ended the call. Wolfgang had looked at him in silence, and then Rajan yelled, “ _Y_ _ES!”_ waking Kala up from her sleep, and Rajan practically pounced on the bed, rambling excitedly about how his mother had called, scolded him quite a lot, and then asked how Kala and his “friend” were, which _“is obviously not ideal but for my mother is practically a leap in the right direction!”_

Wolfgang didn’t think any of that was necessarily worthy of Rajan’s excitement, but he wouldn’t do anything to wipe the smile off of Rajan’s face.

Rajan’s good mood had spread to Kala as well, and she and Rajan were all smiles and laughs as they drove, the two of them pointing to absolutely everything in sight and remarking how beautiful Germany was. They had kept those smiles even as they had walked up to the cemetery, but as the trio stepped past the gates the smiles slowly dropped and his boyfriend and girlfriend trailed behind him in silence.

Kala and Rajan had told him that it was okay, that Felix was his family and Felix already knew, and that obviously he didn’t have to do anything since - the _since_ was left unspoken, but Wolfgang had shaken his head and replied that this, like everything else, would be something they did together, and the two had agreed, with no more comments to be said.

Wolfgang had thought about what he would do at his father’s grave. He’d already pissed on it, kicked it another (that resulted in a stubbed toe, which was still worth it), and spit on it whenever he’d walked by. It dawned on him that a great insult would be to bring Kala and Rajan there. Showing up to his father’s grave with the people he loved, _two_ of them no less? His father would have hated it.

 

_ANTON BOGDANOW_

_DECEMBER 1943 - OCTOBER 2001_

 

Wolfgang’s pace doesn’t slow down, and he barely spares a glance at the gravestone.

Had his father been alive, Wolfgang would have made sure that he never even laid his eyes on Kala and Rajan, much less breathe in their general direction. He didn’t need to bring them to him in death; instead, Wolfgang had decided that he never needed to visit or think about Anton Bogdanow ever again.

Kala and Rajan didn’t tell their families for the sake of acceptance, but for being honest and professing their love - for the three of them, for  _him_. And they had done it to parents that they respected and acknowledged, regardless of their reactions. Sometime after Mumbai and the plane ride to Germany, Wolfgang had decided to do the same. His feet stop at the small, modest gravestone, the one he had made sure was far away from his father’s grave, and he crouches down.

_IRINA BOGDANOW_

_SEPTEMBER 1971 - MARCH 2001_

_LOVING DAUGHTER AND MOTHER_

 

Wolfgang hasn’t visited her grave in a while - he had a few times after her death but after a while he felt dumb, coming to the grave, talking to air and getting no response - but he thinks maybe Felix has come here recently because there isn’t ivy on it like there are on the other graves, and there’s a small slightly dried lily on the top.

His mother had loved lilies; she always kept a small vase of them in her room and would buy little flower jewelry at the shops. She had small white flower earrings on the day she had died, Wolfgang remembered.

She had killed herself a month after Wolfgang had come to her, telling her that they should cut and run. He’d allowed himself to hug his mother when she told him she wasn’t worth it, believed her when she said that it would never work, had slept peacefully in her bed and whispered a soft _“I love you_ ” as she held him tight.

That last month, Wolfgang and Irina attempted to avoid the monster in their house when possible, stomaching the lewd jokes and jerking away whenever he grabbed one of them too roughly, retreating to their rooms and singing together, softly, until the door slammed signaling his departure.

It had been normal, or at least as close to normal as they could get.

The day his mother killed herself, she had kissed Wolfgang on the forehead and given him a huge hug. He still remembered her perfume - she smelled sweet that day (like a sugary cinnamon, he thinks), and her hair had fallen in front of his face and tickled his nose.

_“Are you okay?” Wolfgang asked, and his mother had laughed._

_“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said. “I have the most important thing in the world in my arms.”_

She had crouched down and looked into his eyes, her own eyes fierce and focused on only him.

 _“You’re going to make a wonderful singer one day, Wolfgang. I’m proud of you_.”

She had sent him off to school then, opening the door for Wolfgang to leave, but before he stepped out the door she yelled, _“Wait!”_ and pulled Wolfgang back in for another hug, and whispered the last words he ever heard her say:

 _“I love you so,_ **_so_ ** _much, my Wolfgang_.”

 _“I love you too. Always_.”

Wolfgang had left, slightly confused by all the hugs he’d gotten that morning but happy nonetheless. He looked back at his mother and gave her a wave, and she gave a soft smile and waved back.

Thinking back, he thinks there were tears in her eyes, but maybe that’s his mind playing tricks on him. He doesn’t know if she even consciously knew what she was going to do at that moment. Maybe she decided that morning, or the month before when Wolfgang had come into her room, or ten minutes before she had actually done it, but the only thing that mattered was that his mother was there when Wolfgang left and wasn’t when he came back.

Sergio had told him that Irina had swallowed pills, that he and Anton had come home but there was nothing to be done, and Wolfgang had _screamed_.

He screamed all the way from the car to his home, and ran inside, ready to - he didn’t know, really. He was either going to hug his mother because Sergio had to be lying, or pummel his father because if his mother _was_ dead then it wouldn’t be suicide it would be because of _him_ and _he_ was probably trying to cover his ass.

But then he had stepped through the door and Anton was screaming too, yelling at every member of the household, asking how they could have let her slip through their fingers, why no one was _watching_ her when she had threatened this before. His face was red and twisted in anger - because Irina had done it, escaped him and finally gone to a place he couldn’t find her, had done it in _his_ house as a final fuck you before dying and he _knew it_.

The fight had left Wolfgang, and sorrow filled him instead.

 _He_ had done this, by not following through. He shouldn’t have listened to her, he should have protested harder. He should have killed his father when he had the chance, because then she’d be _alive_.

When the funeral happened and Anton Bogdanow showed up late, his arm around a woman Wolfgang had never seen before, he decided he’d follow through anyway.

Every night, for months, he’d watch the man who called himself his father. When he’d meet with “clients”, go out with a different woman each week, his usual bar times. He’d marked every consistent point in his father’s schedule, until it was time.

And then he had done it, and it had been laughingly easier than he had ever expected. Anton had struggled, but Wolfgang held the wire tighter, tighter, _tighter_ until his father went still. It was harder dragging his body to the car, but Wolfgang had done it, and in a few minutes the car was on fire and Wolfgang was watching the monster who made his life hell burn.

He felt nothing. His mother was still dead, after all.

“I’m sorry,” Wolfgang said to the grave. “I should have done it earlier.” He looked back at Kala and Rajan, who were standing behind him, lingering, unsure if they should move closer. “I could have introduced you to these two,” he said.

His mother would have loved them, the both of them. She’d bring out some pastries and Rajan would ramble about how he’s always wanted to learn how to make them and Irina would light up and show him how to make all her childhood desserts, and Rajan would have asked her every question under the sun and get into a lengthy conversation with her about what spices are best. She’d be rolling out the dough when she hears Kala singing under her breath, and she would sing along, giving Kala a soft nudge and telling her to sing louder because her voice was wonderful. She’d pause her singing and look over at Wolfgang and smile and tell him _“I’m proud of you_ ” before singing again, and Rajan would sing slightly-off tune but close enough, and Wolfgang would smile at all at them and join in, singing the loudest out of any of them.

Of course, that’s a fantasy that will never happen, no matter how hard he wishes it would.

He suddenly feels stupid here, sitting at the grave. He doesn’t know if spirits exist - he used to believe that death was the end, but over the past three years he’s experienced human connection on a whole other level and is now a little bit Catholic, Hindu, and agnostic all at once and he doesn’t know what he believes anymore. So, maybe she’ll hear him, maybe she won’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that right now he’s looking at a slab of stone and he can’t think of what to actually say.

Kala and Rajan move up then, hesitantly, and Kala crouches down, taking Wolfgang’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she starts, and Wolfgang marvels at the fact that Kala’s voice has already started to wobble.

“I miss you,” she says, her voice cracking with emotion. “Isn’t that amazing? It’s wonderful and confusing and heartbreaking all at once, missing someone you’ve never met. I’m even a little angry with you, but mostly I’m longing for your voice right now. I want to hold you and never let go, ever.”

Wolfgang looks at Kala, his eyes wide, but Kala is still looking straight at the gravestone, tears freely streaming down her face.

“And I love you,” she adds. “Every single day, and the love is so…” she looks at Wolfgang. “It’s so _sorrowful_ , but it’s also mixed in with devotion and fondness. Some days it feels overwhelming, like it could burst out my chest any second, and some days it just sits there, under the surface but still just as large, and it - it’s always there.”

“I must be honest, I can’t say that I miss you like Kala does. I don’t have that ability,” Rajan adds, finally deciding to crouch down to be leveled with the stone. “But I do very much wish we had gotten the chance to meet you.” Rajan sits on the grass then and smiles, and Wolfgang is amused for a moment. _Only Rajan could make talking to a gravestone sound like he was talking to an old friend._

“I do think you would be happy to know that we love him very much, and that Wolfgang is quite happy with us,” he says.

Kala is speaking now, saying how Irina would be proud, and Rajan is nodding along, but Wolfgang knows the ramble, knows it’s a mixture of what they’ve said to the Rasals and the Dandekars.

They’re happy.

 _He’s_ happy.

They’re safe.

 _He’s_ safe.

They’re loved.

 _He’s_ loved.

He remembers a moment, a week before her death, when he and his mother were cuddled up in bed. She was dozing off, trying to stay awake for the show they were watching, but the contestant was singing a slow song and Irina’s eyes would close before fluttering open.

_“That’s going to be you one day,” she said._

_Wolfgang had sighed, and said - he couldn’t remember the exact words, anymore, but he thinks it was something about how it couldn’t happen, not with him in the house. He had caught her look of guilt on her face, and had been quick to follow it with an: “I don’t need to be on stage. I can sing around the house.”_

_“You’ll be onstage one day,” Irina said definitively. “I know it.” She had smiled then, and added. “But you’re right, you can also sing at home. You’ll have a partner who’ll love your singing, Wolfgang, and your children will look forward to going to sleep each night because they’ll hear your songs before they rest.”_

_He had looked up at her, and asked her: “Do you think I’ll really have someone?”_

_“Oh Wolfgang,” she said, and pulled him closer to her. “I know you will.”_

He realizes Kala and Rajan have stopped talking, and Kala asks him, softly, if he has anything to say.

Wolfgang just gets up and gives a soft tap on the stone and says, “I’ll come back and visit. I promise,” before turning away.

Rajan follows behind him, and Kala stays back at the stone for a few moments before she too turns and follows the two out the cemetery gates.

There was a moment of awkward silence as they walk towards the car. Wolfgang sits on the hood of the car, not wanting to go back just yet (Felix wanted to hang out with Kala and Rajan and he will complain about it later, Wolfgang is sure, but a few minutes won’t hurt Felix either).  Kala and Rajan sit on either side of him, and both looked like they wanted to say something, but Rajan kept looking off into the distance and Kala would open her mouth only to seemingly change her mind and close it again.

“Thank you both for coming with me,” Wolfgang said, breaking the silence. “I appreciate it. I...”

He wants to tell them how much they mean to him, but isn’t quite sure how to say it. They didn’t show him love for the first time. His mother had been the first to love him, the first to teach him about love and kindness. They hadn’t shown him family for the first time - Felix had come into his life and taught Wolfgang that family is who you choose, and the cluster only reiterated that seven times over.

But.

Kala arrived - like a _goddess_ she had appeared - and she had taught him that someone could feel every dark corner that existed inside of him and still love him wholeheartedly. Rajan had taught him that people were kinder than he had ever thought, and that he could love one person without severing his bonds with another.

They had saved him, _literally_ saved him, when he had been at his lowest, and what Wolfgang feels for them cannot fully be expressed in words, so he says four little words and hopes they understand anyway.

“I love you both.”

Rajan grins - he looks slightly surprised and Wolfgang loves that it always happens after he says _I love you_ \- and says, “We love you too.”

Kala adds a soft “ _always.”_

Wolfgang doesn’t want to delay them any longer, but he also can’t bring himself to get off the car just yet. He’s trying to think of how to tell the two he wants to stay for a little while longer when Kala smiles and reaches out her hand to grab Wolfgang’s, and Rajan has somehow already placed his hand into Wolfgang’s palm.

Wolfgang realizes then that they understand, and the three of them sit there in silence, watching absolutely nothing with their fingers entwined.


End file.
